


another year over (and a new one just begun)

by orphan_account



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: I rated this T for the drinking but it's still very PG for the romance, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M, New Year's Eve, Party, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 15:51:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13170150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The best time to have a first kiss is at Steve Harrington's New Year's Eve party.





	another year over (and a new one just begun)

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in Dec. 1986, so the kids are 16-ish.  
> [Warning for some predatory behavior from a college student towards a high school student, ie. Will. Please stay safe and skip this fic if you need to!!]

The end of 1986 marks their first  _ true _ New Years Eve party. They’ve all celebrated in Mike’s basement before, once even with a secret bottle of liquor, but they’ve never been to the kinds of parties that their classmates rave about when school starts up again. That is, until Steve Harrington invites them to the party he’s having, which will be full of people who graduated with Steve and are only home for the holidays. Older, cooler people.

The Party, of course, accepts his invitation. Steve tells them that he’s staying sober so he can watch over the “little shits”, but he reluctantly agrees to let them each have one drink. He never said they couldn’t accept drinks from other people, though.

That’s how Will ends up on the drunk side of tipsy, stumbling through Steve’s enormous house in search of his friends. They’d gotten separated sometime in between beer pong and karaoke, and they could be anywhere now. He doesn’t know if they’ve even stuck together, or if everyone is fanned out across the entire mansion-like house. He sighs and takes a sip out of his red cup, something that a nice looking girl had poured him in the kitchen. It’s blue, but it tastes like vanilla.

“Hey, Zombie Boy!”

Will freezes, searching for the voice. He hasn’t been called that in years. Once he started high school, people gradually forgot about his stint in the after life. Not that anyone knows what really happened to him—if they did, Will thinks, maybe they wouldn’t have been so rude to him.

The guy who called for him is at the bottom of the staircase, raising his eyebrows expectantly. Will has never seen him before. He’s clearly older, with thick stubble and a watch that, if it’s not a fake, costs more than Will could dream of making from working at Melvald’s.

“Um, do I know you?” Will asks, trying to sound polite, despite the annoyance at being called Zombie Boy.

“I’m Jeremy,” he yells. In this part of the house, the three stereos playing three separate songs converge, making Will strain to hear him. He doesn’t recognize the name Jeremy, though. “I was in Steve’s class.”

“Oh,” Will says, like this means something. Like this explains why he called Will over.

“You want a drink?” Jeremy asks, nudging Will’s mostly empty cup. Will shrugs, and together they squeeze through dancing bodies on their way to the kitchen. It’s only been an hour since Will was last in here, but most of the alcohol has already been wiped out.

Will watches carefully as Jeremy fills a cup with coke and an unopened bottle of rum, making sure those are the only two things that go in that drink. He’s heard the horror stories from health class. He knows what can happen if someone slipped something in there.

“Sorry for calling you Zombie Boy,” Jeremy says, fixing his own drink now. It’s quieter in here, and he doesn’t have to yell as hard. “I don’t know your name.”

“It’s Will,” he says warily.

“Nice to meet you, Will,” Jeremy holds out his hand for a formal shake, and Will’s cheeks go a little pink. He takes a sip of his drink to hide it.

“So, um, why did you want to talk to me?”

Jeremy smiles, taking a step closer, their cups knocking together. “‘Cause I think you’re cute.”

Will instinctively takes a step back, his face scrunched in confusion. “Is this a joke?”

“No,” Jeremy says. “Why would I be joking? You know how much shit I’d get if anyone found out I was hitting on you?”

Will doesn’t know how to answer that, or how to process the information that someone—a  _ boy _ —thinks he’s cute. He tries to think about what his friends would do if they were in this situation. Max would probably call him a creep. Lucas would awkwardly make an excuse to leave. Dustin would give him finger-guns and start rattling off weird science facts, a surefire way to kill the mood. El would use her powers to create a diversion and leave. Mike—What would Mike do? He might stay. Will knows that Mike feels as lonely as Will, now that he’s not with El anymore. Mike might go for it.

“You’re in college,” Will blurts before he can finish thinking it through.

“Yeah, but I’m not that much older,” Jeremy protests. “Come on, it’s fine. Don’t you want to kiss someone tonight?”

Will has survived almost sixteen years without being kissed at all, let alone on New Years, but he has to admit that he wants to. He’s tired of feeling like he’s been left behind. Everyone else he knows has kissed someone. Some of them have even done more. Would it be so bad if Will just did something stupid for once? Didn’t overthink it, just did it? It might be fun.

“Will, there you are!”

Mike is standing in the doorway of the kitchen, subtly glaring at Jeremy.

“The ball’s about to drop,” Mike says, dumping his own cup out in the sink. He doesn’t look like he’s been drinking much. “And El wants to do karaoke with you after.”

Will gives Jeremy one last glance, apologetic but a little bit relieved, too. He can’t kiss Jeremy. He has a beard and he’s older and he called Will Zombie Boy to get his attention.

“Wait, but—” Jeremy starts. Mike pulls him out of the kitchen hurriedly.

“What were you doing with  _ him _ ?” Mike asks once they’re out of earshot.

“I don’t know, he just—said I was cute,” Will admits, blushing. “Why?”

“He’s  _ old _ ,” Mike pulls a face. “Here, Steve said we could go to the upstairs game room, there’s a TV in there.”

Will abandons his cup as he follows after Mike. The crowd has thinned out, everyone gathering in the living room to watch New Year’s Rockin’ Eve. There’s hardly anyone upstairs, since Steve locked all the bedroom doors beforehand, and there’s really no other reason to be upstairs. They do pass by a couple who are jimmying a bobby pin in the doorknob of Steve’s parents room, though. “Sorry,” the girl mutters, and they escape down the stairs.

Mike rolls his eyes. “God, why can’t they just go home and do that shit?”

The game room is pretty small, clearly meant to hold an office, but there are cool arcade games and a life-size statue of Darth Vader, crammed next to a TV only slightly smaller than the one in the living room. They turn it on and the room is filled with the cheering of the people in Times Square. The countdown at the bottom of the screen says there’s five minutes to midnight.

“Were you really going to kiss him?” Mike asks. Will can’t read the expression on his face.

“I don’t know. Probably not,” Will says. “Why does it matter?”

“I guess it doesn’t,” Mike shrugs. “I just think your first kiss should be with someone you actually like, not some creep who’s way too old for you.”

“Well, it’s not like there are a ton of options for me,” Will says with a spark of irritation. “Guys aren’t really lined up the block to kiss me.”

Mike frowns and looks away. He stays silent.

“What?” Will asks.

“I just—” Mike paces in front of the TV without realizing he’s doing it. “I’ve been thinking that maybe I like both? Girls and boys. And that I really like you,” Mike keeps his eyes on the TV, like he’s trying to pretend that this is a casual conversation. “And maybe you don’t have guys lined up down the block, but you should know that you have me, okay? Even if you don’t like me back.”

Will’s heart stops beating and drops into his stomach. “You’re not kidding?”

Mike looks at him for a second before looking back at the countdown. “Not kidding,” he says shakily.

People are shouting, from the TV and from downstairs, “Ten, nine, eight—”

“Will you kiss me?” Will says quickly. He’s not drunk, he’s not even tipsy anymore, really, but the few drinks he had give him the courage to ask.

Mike’s eyes are wide, but he looks hopeful.

“Six, five—”

“I’ve never done it before,” Will says, his voice urgent. “I might not be very good. But I want to, with you.”

“Three, two—”

Will catches a glimpse of Mike smiling before he’s ducking down and pressing their lips together, warm and soft and tasting of sugar cookies. He closes his eyes and feels Mike’s hands in his hair.

It’s so loud—everyone yelling, “ _ Eighty-seven _ ,  _ eighty-seven _ ,” and “happy new year!”, and the sound of noise-makers and fireworks and pots and pans being banged together—but everything slips away, and it’s just Mike and Will.

When they finally separate, Mike keeps his forehead pressed to Will’s. His knees feel weak. “Better than that creep would’ve been?” Mike teases.

“Way better,” Will laughs, and tilts his head up for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!


End file.
